


White Christmas

by JBankai89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Draco Malfoy, Animagus Mishaps, Bottom Draco, Christmas, Christmas Themed, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Implied PTSD Symptoms, M/M, PWP, Porn With Plot, PostWar, Soulmates, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21903397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: All Draco had wanted on that fateful Christmas Eve was a little help from a wizard.Help, due to the fact that he had gotten himself stuck, rather spectacularly, in his embarrassingly diminutive Animagus form.What he hadn't planned on was being dragged into the home of one Harry Potter, nor what was to follow, from becoming the Chosen One's house pet, to something beyond what he could imagine.DO NOT TRANSLATE OR REPOST
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Past Justin Finch-Fletchley/Harry Potter - Relationship
Comments: 22
Kudos: 527





	White Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Happy Holidays, everyone! Please enjoy this little oneshot :)

White Christmas

Draco was furious with himself.

In hindsight, perhaps spending the winter holidays proving himself in the form of mastering the art of Animagi transformation hadn't been his most brilliant plan in a long line of bad plans.

But what was worse was the fact that he had gotten himself stuck, and now no one was able to recognise him in this pitiful form.

Draco stalked down the London streets, white, fluffy tail pointed high in irritation, and his ears pressed flat against his head. His wand had vanished along with everything else he had on him when he'd transformed, leaving him stuck outside on a cold, wintry day.

Despite the poor weather, Draco had at least managed to keep his fur pristine even after a foolish muggle in an automobile had soaked him with foul grey slush. It had taken a long time to lick himself clean, but in the end all the grit in his mouth had been worth it—his thick white coat had at least kept him warm enough that he was not overly affected by the chill in the air.

_I can't believe I'm stuck like this,_ Draco thought for the dozenth time as he stalked grumpily down the street. _And on Christmas Eve, of all days. What am I going to do?_

In truth, Christmas meant little to him of late, given that both his parents and many of his friends were incarcerated. His Christmases were lonely and quiet, save for the time he spent in Azkaban's visitor's room, but they were still _his_.

And now Draco was worse off than ever—the few people he'd tried to contact for help could not recognize or understand him, and they saw him only as some sort of street cat, and would promptly shoo him away. Added to that, his little kitty cat paws could not manage a quill, and a few of the post owls he'd tried to approach had even viewed him as a quick meal, rather than a wizard.

He didn't understand why in the name of Hades that his form was like this. Not just a cat form, but worse than that—a tiny, fluffy, white _kitten_.

Draco harrumphed to himself as he walked. He should be a tiger, or a gryphon. Not..._this_.

Snow began to fall on London, and the late muggle shoppers around him cried out and pointed, as though it was some sort of miracle.

Draco, on the other hand, did not like the notion of snow. Considering how small he was, there was a real chance that he could get buried in the stuff.

Desperate to find some sort of high ground, Draco hastened to the first moderately nice duplex he saw. Little Christmas trees bracketed the wooden door, and they were adorned with garlands of gold and red ribbon. He felt a tickle of warding magic touch his fur, and his despondency was replaced with renewed hope.

Maybe this witch or wizard could help him out of this mess.

Draco planted himself down on the stoop, took a deep breath, and meowed as loud as he could.

Except when the sound escaped him, it still sounded pitifully small to his ears.

Draco meowed again, and again. He refused to give up, even as his throat began to ache with the effort. He didn't know how long he kept it up, but he knew that his options were severely limited—even if he couldn't tell this witch or wizard that he was an Animagus, maybe they'd at least take pity on him and let him stay inside for a spell.

It was worth a try, anyway.

“Oh, _kitty!_”

The sudden sound came from behind him, and Draco head twitched around so fast that he felt his neck crack. At the same moment, he felt his hope immediately vanish when he spotted just who exactly was stepping up the stairs behind him.

Of course it had to be Granger and the Weasel who came upon him first.

Granger hurried up to him and gathered Draco into her arms—a most unpleasant experience, which he immediately tried to escape. Unfortunately Granger seemed to be rather a lot like the giant squid in the sense that she clung to him tightly, even as Draco pressed his paws against her arm in a vain attempt to wriggle free.

“You poor thing!” Granger cooed as she held him in her iron grip. “Did you want to come in and warm up? I suppose Harry didn't hear you—he's clattering about the kitchen and _trying _to cook, don't you know.”

Draco froze.

_Potter?_

How on _earth _could anyone be so unlucky as to just _happen _upon the residence of Harry Potter?

“Harry!” Granger called as she bustled into the duplex without even knocking. “You have a visitor! And she's _adorable_!”

_She_? Draco bristled, and hissed.

“I don't think she's a she, Hermione,” Weasley said with a snicker as he followed her in, and to Draco's utter horror Granger lifted him up and looked between his legs.

“Sorry!” Granger called, “_he's _adorable!”

“Did you find me a date?” Potter called teasingly, even while Draco felt his entire body go red with embarrassment over Granger's little act. Oh, if only she knew whose bollocks she'd been gazing at just now.

He was jostled as Granger shed her boots and cloak without putting him down, then together Granger and the Weasel thundered up the stairs to the main level of the little house.

It was small, for Draco, at least. It bore a cosy sitting room adorned with mismatched armchairs and a patchwork sofa, along with a battered, rickety coffee table that looked like it had been fished out of a rubbish bin. Pieces of artwork hung on the walls, but the frames were not ornate in any form, and were simple wood planks. Houseplants sat on stools or hung from macramé hangers at the windows, and a Christmas tree had been tucked into the corner of the room not far from the fireplace. The space was filled with the scent of roasting meat and seasonal spices, and Potter stood in the midst of it all, a turkey baster in one hand, and his wand in the other.

“Er, why did you bring me a cat?” he asked, sounding as perplexed as he used to in school. “You remember that Christmas is _tomorrow_, right?”

“Oh, he's not from us,” Granger said as she continued to cradle Draco, who had momentarily given up fighting her. “He was on your doorstep when he got here, mewing his poor little head off.”

Something about the word _doorstep _seemed to jar something in Potter, and he took a few steps closer, giving Draco a better view of him.

_Oh bollocks, when did he get so fit? _Draco wondered incredulously, his little eyes wide with shock as he took in the sight before him.

Potter was sporting a thin beard that seemed to teeter between scruff and a true beard. He was wearing muggle clothing—again—and Draco could see muscles straining against the fitted fabric. The man was even wearing cologne, and Draco leant towards the divine scent in spite of himself.

“Well, he is pretty cute,” Harry conceded. “I suppose it wouldn't be too bad to have some company round here now that Justin's left.”

“A Hufflepuff was never your best bet, mate,” Weasley said with a solemn nod. “Besides, cats are far less high-maintenance than crabby boyfriends.”

“Very true,” Granger agreed, and Weasley gazed at her, puzzled, as though he wasn't certain whether to be offended or not.

“Come on then,” Potter said as he waved his hand casually at them, “bring him to the kitchen and I'll give him some roast trimmings or something.”

Draco was carried to the kitchen before he was unceremoniously set down upon the floor. His first instinct was to run—there was no telling what a gang of Gryffindors would do if they found a Slytherin in their midst. He was not so foolish as to forget that it had been Potter's testimony that had kept him out of prison following the war, but something told him he may not be so gracious if he found out that a disguised Malfoy had managed to get into his house.

_Perhaps I should stay_, Draco thought, his stomach rumbling as he watched Potter fill a shallow bowl with rough pieces of beef, then he topped it off with a little gravy. _At least until I'm my old self again._

Despite the _attempting to cook_ remark Granger had made earlier, Draco's kitten-sized dinner was delicious. The others tittered at his enthusiasm over mugs of mulled wine, though Draco was far too hungry to be embarrassed.

“He needs a name,” Weasley announced while Draco ate. “You can't call him _cat _forever.”

“I think he looks very _regal_,” Granger said. “Maybe Prince, or something.”

“He's too tiny to be _regal_,” Potter argued, and Draco meowed indignantly, which caused Potter to smile. “Maybe something more cute, like..._Snow._”

Draco scrunched up his face in a distinctive scowl, which, to his horror, made Weasley burst out laughing.

“I don't think he likes that, mate,” Weasley said, still giggling, but Potter just smiled and reached out to run his big hand along Draco's back. Draco began to purr before he could stop himself.

“No, it's Snow,” Potter said as he gazed down at Draco. “I just...it's Snow.”

Draco thought it was rather too _cute _of a name for him, but his glaring only got more giggles from the trio of Gryffindors. With another huff of annoyance he went back to his roast, and the others meandered out to the sitting room to chat.

Draco finished the food Potter had given him in an embarrassingly short amount of time, but he was at least no longer hungry. Had he not been in such a form, he may have offered up some sort of dignified excuse for stuffing his face like that, but with no one watching there was no need for such a thing.

He sat, for a moment at a loss of what to do with himself. Should he try to plead his case to Potter now, or wait until his friends left? Unfortunately, Weasley in particular could be wildly unpredictable. Draco hated the idea of being thrown out into the snow before he could find a means to remedy his current predicament.

In the spirit of self-preservation, Draco opted to keep his mouth shut for the moment. After a good stretch that made his spine crack in a few choice places, he waltzed into the sitting room and planted himself across Potter's lap, doing what he could to act the part of a sweet little kitty.

“He really likes you, Harry,” Granger remarked, and Draco bristled momentarily at the words before he remembered himself, and went back to purring. Potter stroked him gently, and Draco once again tried to ignore how nice it felt.

“It's nice to have someone around who doesn't snipe at me, that's for sure,” Harry agreed with a short laugh. “I mean, Justin...well...”

“We don't have to talk about him,” Granger said hurriedly, though Draco lifted his head curiously at the girl's tone. Certainly having a Hufflepuff for a boyfriend would be wretchedly dull, and yet why were they talking as though something truly horrible had happened?

Draco shook his head a little. He shouldn't care what a badger and lion did in their spare time, but when Potter spoke again, he couldn't help but listen intently.

“I just wish I knew what sort of person he really was before we moved in together,” Potter lamented despondently, his hand falling to the centre of Draco's back, and it gripped gently. Draco purred a little more loudly, uncertain if it was to comfort Potter or distract himself from his growing sympathy for his schoolboy rival. “He wasn't abusive, thank god, but he was just so..._mean_.”

Draco saw Granger exchange a knowing look with Weasley, one which he thought he understood. Emotional or Verbal Abuse could be just as hard on one's mental state as something physical, and yet Potter did not seem to realize that what he had endured may have truly _been _abuse.

_Gods above save me from feeling sorry for Potter,_ Draco thought as he lay there across the Chosen One's amazingly strong thighs, and for just a moment, one foolish moment, he longed to feel those thighs pressed up against his own human legs as he embraced him.

_Wait, what on earth am I thinking? _Draco shook his head again. The trio had resumed speaking, shifting to lighter, more pleasant topics, but Draco was still caught in his abrupt thoughts of why, exactly, he had been momentarily tempted to _feel _Potter, in every sense of the word.

_Perhaps I am just a little too grateful that he took me in, even if he only thinks I'm some sort of alley cat, _Draco mused as he curled up in Potter's lap and resumed purring. He tried not to think how Potter would react if and when he managed to convey who he truly was to him. For the moment, he just wanted to savour this closeness while it lasted.

Half an hour later, Potter got up to check on the food. Granger appeared quite keen to cuddle Draco in Potter's absence, but he would _not _let Granger manhandle him again.

Draco hissed at her before he darted after Potter, while Weasley howled with laughter at Draco's abject refusal to go anywhere _near _Granger.

“Oh, hello again,” Potter said with a calming smile when Draco scampered in after him. “Didn't want to hang out with my friends, eh? That's fine, I understand. They can be a little overwhelming at times, but not so much as the _rest _of the Weasley family.” Potter paused to laugh. “But I like this better—quiet Christmas Eves, then chaotic Christmas Days. I've liked the quiet much more since...well...”

Potter trailed off, still smiling a little. Perhaps he thought a cat would not understand the need for peace and quiet following the war, but Draco most assuredly did.

In a bid to offer some sort of comfort to Potter (though in truth Draco still had no idea why he even cared) Draco wove through Potter's legs, purring, and Potter chuckled warmly, clearly pleased with the response.

“That's a good way to cheer me up,” Potter said fondly as he checked on the food, pausing long enough to crouch down and pet Draco a few times. “Ron and Hermione mean well, I know they do, and they've had their own ways with dealing with things since..._then..._but their things are not my things, you know? Hermione needs to talk everything to death, Ron eats and pretends everything's normal, but he has horrid nightmares. I just...I need to be still and quiet. Helps me work things out. I mean, it's been _years, _but Hermione still doesn't get that.”

Draco was mildly taken aback by Potter's willingness to talk with him, even if he only thought Draco was an ordinary cat. More than that, he felt an ache in his chest for Potter that he couldn't quite identify—why did he even _care _how Potter had been coping since the war? Why did he care that Potter was now twenty-four, and still not completely past everything that had happened?

Of course, neither was Draco. In truth he wasn't sure if people were ever able to _get over _things like that. All he knew in that moment however was that for some indescribable reason, he wanted to make Potter feel better.

Draco didn't want to dwell on that vaguely horrifying fact, and distracted himself by biting Potter's foot. Instead of making him cry out in pain however, Potter just laughed and nudged him gently with his toe until Draco finally let go with a little huff.

“You're adorable, Snow, do you know that?” Potter said with a smile that made Draco's heart flutter a little too much for his liking. “I'm keeping you _forever_.”

Draco mewed in response to that, though he hadn't the foggiest idea if his vocalization was in favour or protest to Potter's statement.

~*~

Dinner was paired with an awful lot of mulled mead that smelled phenomenal, but alas Potter would not let Draco try any. Draco responded to this by climbing the tablecloth and knocking Potter's glass into his lap, which made Granger and Weasley howl with laughter.

Unfortunately, Potter was less than amused by Draco's antics, and he locked him in the bedroom with a bowl of meat trimmings, water, and a litter box, while he left to be with his friends.

Draco didn't exactly favour this turn of events, but decided it might be for the best to not cause any more mischief, and opted to sleep on Potter's pillow instead of defecating onto it.

Draco drifted, not quite certain how much time had passed, until the door creaked open, and he saw Potter peering in with a smile.

“Finished misbehaving, have you?” Potter asked teasingly. “Maybe if you keep it up, Santa will bring you a little something.”

Draco glared at Potter, which caused him to laugh warmly, the sound seeming to reverberate through Draco, and it settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

_This is impossible, _Draco thought as Potter stepped farther into the room, _I simply cannot be falling for the bloody Chosen One. It makes no sense at all, it—_

The thought cut off however when Potter wandered towards his wardrobe, and promptly peeled off his T-shirt.

Draco's mouth went dry.

What had the Chosen One been _doing_ these last few years?

Draco watched with wide eyes, his eyes roving over every golden-hued muscle and wiry body hair. Somewhere between seventeen and twenty-four Potter had fully abandoned his boyhood and become a _man_.

And a delicious looking man at that.

Draco, had he been a better person, may have looked away at that point, knowing full well what was coming next.

However, Draco was not the modest type in any respect, and instead looked on hungrily as Potter fiddled with the belt buckle that was holding up his jeans.

_Merlin, save me._

Potter's bottom half was even more glorious than the top. Without really noticing what he was doing, Draco began to purr.

Potter sported lean muscle throughout his body—he wasn't a bulky man, and never would be, but even the slightest movement caused the muscle to tense and bulge. When he bent over to fish out some pyjamas from his wardrobe, Draco was given a truly glorious view of his perfect arse.

His cock (which Draco saw again when Potter turned back around) was of average length, settled in a nest of neatly trimmed pubic hair, and yet it still seemed almost _too _perfect, like the rest of him.

_Merlin, so help me, if I ever turn back the first thing I'm going to do is seduce Harry Potter, _Draco thought, too lost in his own lust to even feel a little bit ashamed. He knew, logically, he was supposed to _hate _Potter, but after everything that had happened, how could he?

The fact that he had an incredible body was just a perfect cherry on top.

Once Potter's arse had sadly disappeared behind a pair of blue and white-striped pyjama bottoms, he turned and smiled at Draco, who quickly tried to assume what he hoped was a normal contented kitten expression, even as Potter chuckled and sauntered over to him.

“Oh, Snow, you look a little dazed,” Potter said as he scratched Draco behind the ears. “You okay?”

Draco meowed as though in affirmation, which made Potter chuckle again before he straightened up and headed out of the room. At first, Draco didn't know where Potter had gone, but then he heard the tap in the bathroom begin to run, telling him that Potter was likely brushing his teeth.

Draco was half-tempted to follow Potter, if for no other reason than to stare at his bare chest a little longer, but he curbed the impulse as he curled up into a tighter ball upon the pillow. Really, he should be trying to think of ways to reach out to Potter and ask for help instead of fantasizing about his muscles.

Which was rather difficult when Potter had truly _glorious _muscles.

Potter stepped back into the bedroom, and Draco immediately purred at the sight of him. If he'd still been in his human form, he may have been mortified by how quickly he was shifting towards feeling pleased at the sight of Potter, but in this form Potter made him feel something.

_Something new..._

_Safe, that's it, _Draco thought suddenly. _Potter makes me feel safe._

“Well, it's nice to have someone around who's always so happy to see me,” Potter said teasingly as he eased down onto the bed, and reached out to pet Draco gently. “I mean, the Weasleys are still nice, and they still _feel _like my family...but a little less since I broke it off with Ginny.” Potter paused and grimaced, like he was thinking hard on something, but didn't speak for a long moment before he added, “and then the year of hell with Justin. He wasn't a bad bloke, just...high maintenance. Wanted to do things I didn't want to. He was just...tiring. And...I s'pose he wasn't..._blond_.”

There was a weight to the last word that Draco caught on to immediately, making his heart race, and he fought to act like a normal cat while what he _really _wanted to do was leap out of the bed and shriek, “_what?!_”

“Don't tell Malfoy I ever said so,” Potter whispered to Draco teasingly, grinning a little as he said it. Oh, if only he _knew_. “I did try to chat Malfoy up once, but I think he thought I was having him on. Plus, I was _so _nervous...” Potter trailed off and shook his head. “I don't really understand it myself, just something about him...I feel like I understand him better after everything that happened...I dunno. I just think it'd be brilliant if he let me hold his hand, even just the once.”

Potter laughed, at last ending his monologue, and he patted Draco one last time before he dimmed his gas lamp, and took off his glasses.

Draco lay awake a while longer, not quite able to tear his eyes from Potter as he drifted off to sleep, snoring softly, but not unpleasantly so. All the while, Potter's words rang in Draco's mind like the loudest of church bells.

_I remember the time he was talking about, I think, _Draco mused as he stretched out on the pillow next to Potter's head. _It was at that Ministry Gala, the one for Muggleborn integration initiatives. I went because I needed to be seen at the right events, even after pouring so much gold into things that would horrify my parents...He tried to talk to me, but I ignored him because I thought he was pitying me because no one would give me the time of day...but it wasn't pity, was it?_

Draco burned with a longing to speak to Potter, and for the first time all day, he tried to force the change from his Animagus form back to his human one—if for no other reason than to _talk _to Potter about this.

Nothing happened.

Draco huffed in frustration, and curled back up into a ball. A niggling worry that he might truly be stuck like this had begun to bleed into his mind, but he refused to dwell on it.

There would be time enough to panic later.

~*~

By the time that Draco woke the next morning, Potter was already gone.

The duplex felt big and empty without Potter in it, and Draco felt an odd ache in his chest from the loss.

_I don't miss him, I don't miss him..._ Draco thought repetitively as he stretched and yawned, and tried, futilely, to change back again.

Predictably, nothing happened.

Furious, Draco hopped down from the bed and meandered through the house, looking for someone who wasn't there. Breakfast dishes sat unwashed in the kitchen sink, and gift wrappings had been stuffed into a bag by the door. Potter's new gifts sat in neat piles under his Christmas tree, along with a sparkly little fish-shaped cat toy that had a bow on it.

The minty scent of the catnip did nothing for him, perhaps because he wasn't a real cat. He pawed the fish a few times, making it jingle, but he just felt foolish doing it, and quickly stopped.

Instead, Draco decided to try and make his lonely Christmas at least a little bit productive, and meandered over to Potter's pitiful bookcase in the hopes of finding something that might help him get out of this tiny body and back to his old self.

Draco didn't exactly have high expectations. Potter's collection of books barely amassed two whole shelves, the rest of the bookcase had been stuffed with a mishmash of common potions ingredients and Quidditch memorabilia.

The lack of organization made Draco internally cringe, and he longed for a pair of opposable thumbs, if for no other reason than to _fix _this mess.

At the same moment however, Draco's eyes were drawn to a thick hardcover book at the vary bottom of the bookshelf entitled _Animagi for Beginners._

Draco could have laughed at the unlikelihood of coming upon the book merely by chance, and he reached a paw out, tentatively at first, before he sank his claws into the top of the spine and slowly dragged the book from its spot upon the shelf.

His claws had utterly ruined the top of spine, but Draco theorized he could fix it when he turned back. It clattered to the ground before him, and while it wasn't overlarge, it was still heavy enough to pose a slight problem for his tiny kitten body to move—it was simply too heavy for him.

_I suppose I'll need to read it right here,_ Draco thought with an annoyed huff while he once more used his claws, this time to flip open the book and awkwardly began to turn the pages.

Draco bypassed the sections on the basic how-tos, and went straight to the _troubleshooting _section, which included a wildly unhelpful sketch of a wizard mid-transformation, who appeared to be in excruciating pain.

Most of the _help _wasn't exactly help, in Draco's opinion. It detailed informing loved ones of their plans to attempt an Animagus transformation, and first-time transformations should be conducted in front of someone you knew, should something go wrong.

Something that Draco, foolishly, hadn't thought of.

Frustrated, Draco began to flip the pages more hastily, almost desperately looking for help, until he fell upon a page he hadn't thought of nor expected.

_Animagus Soulmate Reversal_

_In the event that hospitalization or access to a trained Transfiguration Master is not feasible, one can seek out their soulmate for aid. _

_Soulmate magic, indeed one of the oldest and most mysterious forms of magic, can act as dispelling magic for many non-fatal curses and magical mistakes, including improperly enacted Animagus transformations. _

Unfortunately, it did not list _how _a soulmate could help, even if Draco had been lucky enough to have one.

Once again caught by his frustration, Draco flicked to the next page in the hopes of finding something more useful.

~*~

Potter arrived home well past ten o'clock looking well worn out, but happy.

Draco had been sleeping on one of the armchairs, still stuck in his kitten form after he found nothing helpful in the book on Animagi. He had left it open pointedly on the page about being trapped in one's form.

Unfortunately, as Draco watched Potter meander from the Floo and farther into the space, he realised that it was utterly foolish to hope that Potter was intelligent enough to take a hint. He watched despairingly as Potter picked up the book, shut it, and placed it back on the shelf with a warm chuckle while he muttered something about Draco being a 'little troublemaker'.

Draco seethed as he watched Potter putter around with a silly little smile on his stupidly handsome face until he wandered off, and the shower began to run.

Draco took the opportunity to get down from his perch and have something to eat and drink. Thankfully, Potter had kept to leftovers from that roast under a refreshment charm rather than provide him with actual cat food, which was a small blessing.

After he'd eaten, Draco made for the bedroom for the evening stripshow, but sadly seemed to have missed it while he ate, as when he made it to the space Potter was already in his usual pyjama bottoms, and he was turning down the bedding.

“There you are, Snow,” Potter said warmly, and Draco silently bristled at the name. Why couldn't Potter have picked something more _dignified_? “I was wondering if you'd join me again.”

Draco sorely wished for the ability to offer up a sarcastic remark, but in lieu of that he merely let out a tiny huff as he hopped up onto the bed and moved over to the spot he'd occupied the night before. Potter chuckled as he slipped into bed, smelling of cedar shampoo and mint toothpaste, which made Draco tingle all over with longing.

“I have to admit,” Potter said as he settled down and reached out to pet Draco gently, “having someone to come home to makes a nice change. Plus, you're nowhere near as grumpy as my _last_ co-habitor.”

Potter then did something Draco did not expect; he leant in, far closer than Draco would have anticipated, and pressed a gentle kiss to the very tip of Draco's nose.

Draco lifted his head without thinking. His little cat mouth touched Potter's soft lips. A warmth enveloped Draco's form suddenly; a warmth he could only dimly recognize as some sort of healing magic, but did not care to name it beyond that, in particular when Potter's lips felt so _good_ against his own.

His own _human _lips.

Potter pulled back, a little gasp slipping out in shock, but Draco ignored him, lurching forward to draw out their kiss. Potter appeared visibly conflicted, but relaxed into the kiss far more quickly than Draco would have expected. He held tightly to Draco, a soft whimper slipping past his lips, almost as though he was afraid Draco might suddenly disappear.

“You're...you're Snow,” Potter said when they parted, and Draco, inexplicably, felt a jolt of guilt rush through him. Draco hadn't expected to feel _bad_ for deceiving Potter.

“I tried to tell you,” Draco said softly as he gazed back at Potter. “I was stuck in that form, I needed help...your home was just the first I happened upon—I didn't plan this.”

“You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you sounded like you felt _bad _about that,” Potter teased, a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth while he gazed at Draco with clear longing. That alone put Draco more at ease than any sort of verbal reassurance ever could—not that Draco was about to tell Potter that.

“Tell anyone I felt _guilty _about deceiving you and you're dead, Potter,” Draco said at last, which caused Potter to snigger most unattractively.

“What I don't get is if you were stuck, why did you change now?” Potter asked when he'd calmed down, and reached out a hand in order to touch Draco's cheek. Draco leant into the touch without thought, and smiled ruefully at the question.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Potter's tone was challenging, but he was grinning as he said it. It made Draco want to kiss him again.

Never one to deny himself, Draco leant in and touched Potter's bottom lip with his tongue, making the brunet shudder before opening his mouth, and he let out a tiny moan as their lips moulded together once more.

“We're _soulmates_,” Draco whispered against his mouth. “Funny thing, soulmate magic...can do all sorts of things that normal magic can't accomplish. Like rectifying one's botched Animagus transformation, for example.”

“Soulmates are...real?” Potter asked as he pulled back a little in order to gaze at Draco, and he smiled faintly in response to Potter's oddly endearing ignorance to the world who coveted him so deeply.

“Incredibly rare, but very much real,” Draco replied as he rested a palm against Potter's chest, and he felt the man's heart thrumming under his hot skin. To Draco, it seemed anticipatory rather than panicked. “And we all know all things rare and wildly unlikely _never _happen to you.”

Potter appeared to be struck dumb for a long, uninterrupted moment. Then, quite suddenly, he burst out laughing.

“Bloody hell, Ron is going to _flip_ when he finds out that Hermione literally _carried _you into my house...” Potter said in between giggles while he shimmed closer until they were pressed chest to chest. “The only thing I don't get is why your form is so...”

He trailed off, and flushed. Draco arched an eyebrow at him.

“So _what_, Potter?” Draco asked, his voice almost a purr, and when Draco leant in for another intoxicating kiss, he did not fail to notice a certain bulge between Potter's legs that had begun to make itself known.

“So little and cute.”

“Are you implying that I'm _not _little and cute, Potter?”

“I'd say more tall and mind-bendingly attractive,” Potter replied. “Also, call me Harry. If this night goes where I _think _it's going, I don't fancy being called _Potter _all night.”

“Mind-bendingly attractive, eh?” Draco asked, and Potter—_no, Harry—_flushed a charming shade of crimson.

“You were always attractive,” Harry said with a note of defensiveness in his voice even as he shifted closer, a knee pressing forward and making Draco's legs fall open. It did not escape his notice how Harry was trying to coax him onto his back, but to this Draco had no protests whatsoever. As Harry began to unbutton Draco's robes, he added, “your shitty attitude in school made it hard to _like _you, but it's pretty obvious to anyone paying attention that you've been trying to do better ever since the war.”

“I believe by _anyone paying attention_, you mean just you,” Draco countered with a lazy smile as he watched Harry continue to disrobe him, though the brunet let out a little huff of annoyance as he opened the robes only to find another layer beneath, of a button-down shirt and a pair of trousers.

“Obviously,” Harry teased, grinning a little as he eased back enough for Draco to sit up and fully shed the robe. Harry gently pinned him again and began to work on the buttons of his shirt, while Draco reached out to tease the drawstring of Harry's pyjama bottoms. “Everyone else is just...clouded by ignorance. I couldn't like someone who was as bad as you used to be...or how you wanted people to _think _you were...I can't decide which.”

Harry paused, and brushed his fingers over the line of fair skin that he'd managed to expose. For a moment Draco thought that Harry was just touching him, but then he realized that Harry was actually caressing one of the scars Harry had bestowed upon him _that day _back in sixth year.

Draco reached out and grabbed Harry's wrist, stopping him. For a moment he couldn't quite find the words to put Harry's mind at ease—what _could _he say that wouldn't sound foolish or dismissive?

Instead, he lifted Harry's hand to his mouth, and kissed his fingers before he said, “I forgave you a long time ago...Harry.”

Perhaps _forgave _was a little bit strong, but _I am apathetic towards the fact that you once nearly killed me given that I was so consumed by the task of trying to kill Dumbledore and save my parents from the Dark Lord _was far less romantic-sounding to Draco's ears.

Thankfully, the words seemed to be enough to put Harry off his worries. Instead the brunet leant in and kissed him again, Draco's shirt falling open the rest of the way in the process, and they pressed their bare chests together, while needy moans began to escape each of them in turn.

“I want you to fuck me,” Draco breathed in between kisses. “How does that sound to you?”

“Terrible,” Harry replied, one hand moving to rest on Draco's chest, and Draco could feel the man's grin against his lips, even as the fingers began to trail downwards excruciatingly slowly. “I want to make _love _to you. How does _that _sound?”

“I should have known you'd be a ridiculous sentimentalist,” Draco replied, even as he felt what seemed to be an eruption of butterflies release in his chest. Yes indeed, that _did _sound very good to him.

They kissed again. Harry's hand at last made it to the top of his trousers, and Draco shivered with anticipation as Harry thumbed open the top button. He could feel Harry grinning, though for once he couldn't bring himself to respond with some sort of snide or sarcastic remark. He was too caught up in the moment, too eager for it to proceed. Part of him, perhaps foolishly, feared that if he said the wrong thing Harry might _stop_.

Draco wasn't sure if he'd weep or pitch a fit if Harry did something as horrible as _that_.

“Please,” Draco whispered instead, too far gone to worry how he might sound. Instead of teasing him, Harry just kissed him again.

“Shh, Draco,” Harry whispered softly. “Don't worry, I'll take care of you...”

“Prove it by getting on with it..._Potter,_” Draco retorted, his challenging tone utterly lost in the breathlessness of his voice, which made Harry chuckle softly as he finally—_finally—_pulled down the zip, and slid his hand into Draco's trousers.

“Oh, you're _big_,” Harry breathed, and Draco huffed a laugh.

“No need to sound so _surprised_, Harry.”

“No, I mean...” Harry flushed, even as he fumbled with Draco's pants, slipping his warm fingers under the cotton, and making Draco hiss softly as Harry's hand coiled around his cock. “I mean...well...Ron and I always thought you were such a prat because you were _compensating _for something...” Harry trailed off, and laughed, then squeezed Draco's shaft gently, making him let out a soft, reedy moan. “Clearly we were way off the mark.”

“Perhaps I'll forgive you if you finish stripping me and get on with it,” Draco purred, which made Harry laugh again.

“Fine, I'll just stop touching you and...” Harry trailed off as he removed his hand, making Draco let out an undignified whine at the loss of contact, only to yelp when Harry grabbed his wand, flicked it, and rendered Draco stark naked from head to toe.

“Using magic is cheating, also you banished my wand,” Draco halfheartedly accused while he reached out to tug at the drawstring of Harry's pyjama bottoms, which were still firmly in place. It was only when Harry's gaze jerked back up did Draco notice something in his expression, something he hadn't seen before.

Harry was staring at him.

Not in a foolish or gobsmacked sort of way, but rather the way an artist sees a sunrise, or the way a writer composes a sonnet.

As though Harry was witness to something truly beautiful.

Draco felt himself flush, unused to people looking at him like that. With a measure of respect in terms of his friends, yes, or disgust from his enemies—never _this_.

Feeling unexpectedly shy, Draco moved to turn his head away. He briefly spotted that Harry had not, in fact, banished his wand, as it was sitting innocently upon the bedside table, before Harry gently caught his pointed chin in his hand, then moved in to kiss him tenderly.

“Don't hide from me, Draco,” Harry whispered, his eyes shining in the dim light of the bedroom. “I—I can't rightly explain why, but this thing that's between us...it feels...it's like more than just a shag. More than a weird and confusing beginning. I don't know what it is, I just know that I don't want you to be scared, or embarrassed, or anything. I want to protect you.”

Draco was tempted to mention the implication that they were soulmates again, but decided against it. Given that Harry had been raised by muggles it was likely that he wouldn't fully comprehend how deep that sort of magic could run, and how it didn't always mean love at first sight. It was more complicated than that, and in truth, all that they had endured (and done to each other) was perfectly in line with many documented soulmate couples throughout history. Often, it took time for them to figure out that they were meant for each other.

Instead of explaining all this, Draco simply arched up and kissed Harry tenderly.

Harry seemed to give in to his desires all at once, his body relaxing as Draco drew him closer, their arms tangling together, lips parting, and tongues twining. The heat between them built again, but this time, thankfully, Harry did not see fit to stop and _talk _any more.

In response, Draco ran his hands down Harry's bare back, making him shiver. He did not stop once he reached the waistband of Harry's pyjama pants, and he smiled inwardly as he tugged them down, making Harry shiver again in the most delightful way.

Harry got off Draco only long enough to kick away the offending article of clothing before he was on Draco again, devouring his mouth in a hungry kiss.

Draco responded in kind, lifting his hands in order to bury them in Harry's thick, soft hair, while he marvelled at how the strands stuck up with so little effort. The notion made Draco brim with an odd sort of glee—_everyone _would know what they'd been up to thanks to Harry's ridiculous hair.

Harry let out something not unlike a purr in response to his touch. For some reason, the sound made Draco laugh, and Harry grinned into the kiss, rotating his hips just enough to generate a little friction, and Draco hissed, his back arching, and the motion effectively broke the kiss.

Harry responded by pressing a kiss to Draco's collarbone, then swiped his tongue along it, making Draco moan again. He carded his fingers through Harry's hair encouragingly, only to moan again when Harry's tongue slowed its trek, stopping at Draco's right nipple.

Draco shuddered, letting out a groan as Harry sucked on it, his fingers teasing the opposite one with an infuriating, deliberate ease, perhaps knowing just how much the slow pace was driving Draco mad. He lifted one of his arms, not wholly certain what he planned to do with it, only to let out a gasp when Harry wrapped his free hand around the wrist, and pinned it gently, but firmly, to the bed.

The message was clear, and Harry released him the moment Draco went lax and pliant, evidenced when Harry glanced up and shot Draco a wicked grin.

“Keen to move it along, eh?” Harry asked, even as he continued to finger Draco's nipple, the sensation making it harder for Draco to think clearly, much less answer in a coherent sort of way.

It took him a moment to find the right words, before he at last said, “Harry, _please_. I _need _this. I need _you__. _Could you put off the delicious teasing for another night?”

Harry responded first by removing his hands from Draco's chest, which was both a relief and a frustration for Draco—it had felt rather good, but any more of this teasing would surely have him begging like some sort of street urchin before long.

Following that, Harry eased himself forward, pressing their chests together again as he teased Draco's lips with the lightest kiss, one which made Draco yearn for more.

“Tell me what you want, love,” Harry purred, the pet name making Draco feel oddly giddy, though he did what he could to hide it while he kissed Harry back. “Tell me what you _need_, baby. On your back? On your front? What sort of position do you prefer?”

“I want to see you,” Draco responded at once, and he felt himself flush at how love-struck he sounded. “On my back, with you facing me.”

Draco flushed again, as it would be impossible for Harry to _not _face him in such a position, but the words were coming out of him faster than he could think them through—quite an undignified thing for a Malfoy to do, though Harry didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was smiling.

“You're so cute when you get all flustered,” Harry said affectionately, kissing Draco one more time before he sat up a little, just enough to reach across to his bedside table, and he opened the top drawer. Draco craned his neck to look, and his eyebrows shot into his hairline at what he saw.

Clearly, Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, was far more kinky than anyone in gossip columns truly knew.

Anal plugs, vibrators, dildos, double-headed dildos, blindfolds, silk ribbons, chains, leather whips, riding crops, bottles upon bottles of lube, and little round things in packets that Draco didn't recognize. The little drawer shouldn't have been able to fit it all, but then it was quite obvious to Draco that some sort of extension charm had been applied to the piece of furniture.

“Got enough toys, Potter?” Draco asked teasingly, and Harry grinned at him unabashedly.

“No such thing as _enough_,” Harry replied as he laughed. “Hermione nearly _fainted _when she accidentally stumbled across it, so I usually keep it locked now.”

“What are the round things?” Draco asked, watching as Harry finally withdrew the lube, checked the label, perhaps to ensure he'd grabbed the right one, then to Draco's question, he smiled as he shut the table's drawer.

“They're called condoms,” Harry explained patiently. “Sort of the muggle equivalent of a contraception or sexual protection charm. When I was with...er, my ex...”

“I was there, remember? You can say _Justin_,” Draco said dryly. “I promise that I won't go running to the papers this time.”

“_This time_,” Harry whispered softly, and chuckled. In response, Draco smiled. Things really had changed. “Fine. When I was with _Justin_, well, he was muggle-born, remember? So he never felt comfortable doing things with just spells, he wanted me to wear a condom as well, just to be safe. I mean, neither of us were fooling around with anyone else, but he was a bit...obsessive with controlling every aspect of our lives, even in bed. I just never threw them out after he left.”

“He sounds charming,” Draco said, once again using a dryly sarcastic tone of voice, which made Harry smile.

“So far, you're much lower-maintenance than he was,” Harry said teasingly, grinning as he moved to kiss Draco again and rekindle the fire of their need for one another, even as Draco huffed a laugh at the notion of a _Hufflepuff _being lower-maintenance than him. Oh, Harry had _no _idea what he was in for.

Instead of saying anything, Draco kissed Harry back while he opened his legs invitingly. Harry groaned, his cock seeming to twitch with desire from that small act, and he fumbled with the bottle of lube, dropping it more than once on Draco's stomach before he at last got a firmer grip on it, which caused Draco to smirk at the brunet wryly.

“Having some trouble, Potter?”

“Shut up,” Harry retorted without any real venom, and eyed Draco with a slight smile. “You're kind of distracting, you know.”

Draco was on the cusp of asking if Harry needed help opening the bottle when he finally managed it, and he squeezed a generous dollop upon his fingers, making the space around them smell faintly of honeysuckle. Draco parted his legs even farther apart, which for some odd reason made Harry flush, but he didn't say anything while Draco shifted his position, knowing from past experience the ideal way for Harry to reach his arse without him having to roll over.

Draco lay flat on his back, then lifted one leg, curling it against his body and holding it there with his arms. Harry sucked in a sharp breath, and idly Draco wondered if anyone had ever done this for him—exposed themselves for his use, clearly in the way he wanted them to, but knowing what he knew about _Saint Potter_, he likely would never have the ability to ask for it.

For a moment Draco wasn't certain if he needed to tell Harry that he was free to begin. It was harder to see Harry from this position when his leg was in the way, and at first he was tempted to interject some levity into the situation, perhaps by teasingly barking, _get on with it._

Thankfully he didn't need to, and Harry brushed his finger over Draco's entrance, the motion almost experimental, and it made Draco hiss softly with need. He heard Harry chuckle softly, and was on the brink of responding with a sarcastic remark when Harry _at last _breached his entrance, and Draco moaned with both pleasure and relief.

“I love how responsive you are,” Harry breathed, his finger inching deeper into Draco at an infuriatingly slow pace, and the sound of his voice, almost like Draco could _hear _him grinning, told him that Harry likely knew how this teasing was affecting him. “I even breathe and you start moaning. It's so nice.”

Draco had to wonder just how bad Finch-Fletchley had been if his responses to Harry's frankly _delicious _touch warranted such a remark. He kept quiet however, fearful that saying so might lead Harry to pause what he was doing so they could have another idle chat—that could _not _happen. He needed this. _Now_.

When Harry had fully sheathed his finger inside him, he did not pause for Draco to fully acclimate to the sensation. Perhaps he noticed just how relaxed Draco was, and added a second finger, which made Draco moan again.

“Think you're ready?” Harry asked after a moment, and Draco nodded immediately. In truth he had a fairly active sex life, though he'd never been _with _someone—not like this. The men he met often found an odd sort of sexual thrill in fucking a former Death Eater, even a junior one like him. No one had ever _cared _about him like a soulmate could.

Like Harry did.

Draco said none of this, of course, and fell on his back as he smirked up at Harry, his legs relaxing as Harry cast the necessary charms for cleansing, lubrication, and protection.

Draco, in response, parted his legs invitingly. Harry's cock bobbed as he moved into the space Draco had created, almost like it was just as eager to proceed to the main event as Draco and Harry were.

“Come on, Potter,” Draco purred as Harry inched closer, and coiled his legs around the brunet's waist. He ran his palm up Harry's muscled chest as he said, “show me just how good a Gryffindor _truly _is.”

Harry smiled, despite and Draco's almost challenging tone, Harry's expression was soft and loving. It made Draco's heart flutter in his chest.

“Don't ask me if I'm ready,” Draco said when Harry moved to speak, and he tightened his legs around the Harry's waist to emphasize his point. “I'm _ready_.”

“Sorry, habit,” Harry said with that same soft, sweet smile, and he bowed forward to press a delicate kiss to Draco's lips.

Draco was on the cusp of truly demanding that Harry _get on with it_ when at last the man _finally_ edged forward and pressed his cock to Draco's waiting hole.

Draco groaned, this time appreciatively, his head falling back against the pillows while Harry let out a sound that seemed to be an odd mix of a laugh and a moan while he continued to inch his way in. Harry's breathing was shallow, as though he was already trying to stave off orgasm, which Draco almost thought was funny—just how abysmal _was _Harry's staying power?

“Fuck, you're so tight,” Harry breathed, and Draco huffed a soft laugh as Harry at last managed to fully sheath himself inside him.

“No,” Draco countered, “you're just _big_.” He paused, and offered Harry a wry smirk. Not as big as Draco was, to be sure, but he was still big enough to be wildly satisfying. “It would figure that _Saint Potter_ would have a cock size to match his fat head.”

“Shut up,” Harry retorted without any real venom. “You _love _it.”

Draco did, but he wasn't about to admit it. Instead he tightened his legs around Harry's waist in a silent plea. Thankfully Harry took the hint and at last started to move.

Draco hadn't quite known what to expect, but found, quickly, that Harry was as good at shagging as he was at flying.

That is to say, _fantastic._

Harry rocked his hips expertly, his hands gripping Draco's waist almost to the point of bruising. He bowed forward, laying as close to Draco as he could so that with every thrust his belly rubbed against Draco's aching cock, creating a delicious sort of friction that had Draco moaning like a common whore.

“F-Fuck, s-so good...” Harry gasped out as he moved, making Draco's body jerk with every thrust, while Draco reached above his head to grip the slats in the headboard of the bed. At the same time, he arched up and bit down on Harry's bottom lip, just hard enough to drag the Chosen One into a messy kiss.

The act caused Harry to grunt, falling forward as he thrust into Draco again, harder than before. Draco moaned into Harry's mouth, breathing hard as he let go of the headboard and clawed at him, leaving red marks along Harry's shoulders and back. The act seemed to spur Harry on even more, ramming Draco's arse like he was a persistent bludger, his breath becoming more laboured as he broke the kiss, lips flush from Draco's abuse of them.

Harry keened and came quite unexpectedly, reaffirming Draco's belief that Harry's staying power was most assuredly far from impressive.

Draco was too far gone to remark on it, in particular when Harry pulled out, and despite what seemed to be a mind-bending orgasm, did not even slow down as he shimmied down Draco's body in order to swallow his cock whole.

Draco keened, his back arching off the bed as he thrust down the Chosen One's throat, his vision seeming to dim as his orgasm was wrenched from him much more quickly than he was used to. Up to that point, he'd been rather proud at his ability to go for hours, but of course it had to be _Potter _who made him cum as fast as a Firebolt could fly.

Harry pulled back, licking his lips like a kitten with a bowl of cream, which, Draco thought, was rather an apt visual after all that had transpired that night.

“I hope you don't expect me to leave now,” Draco said, his tone edging towards defensive as he gazed at Harry. Despite the fact that he _knew _that they were soulmates, that didn't necessarily mean that Harry had any intentions beyond a simple shag. “Mostly because I'm uncertain that my legs are up to working properly at the moment.”

“You think after all that I'd make you leave? After all that?” Harry asked, his brow creasing in both confusion as well as concern. Draco watched as Harry crawled up the bed and lay down alongside Draco. “Not when we're so...alike?”

“We're not very alike,” Draco replied dryly, arching a brow at Harry as he relaxed next to the blond, uncaring that they were both naked and covered with fluids. Draco didn't miss how Harry watched his every move in a very predatory sort of way, and it gave Draco the impression that if they weren't so exhausted, they'd be shagging again already.

“I think we are,” Harry said as he inched closer to Draco, pausing only long enough to grab his wand and flick it a few times in order to clean them both up, then he lay down alongside him. Draco curved a dubious brow at him, and Harry laughed.

“All right,” he conceded, “we're not, but I know you're still..._good._ Now, at least. I don't think I could be with someone who was actually as horrible as you tried so hard to be back in school.”

“_Tried?_” Draco demanded with mock offence, which made Harry smile. “Maybe you just love a bad boy.”

“Maybe I just like annoying little ferrets,” Harry countered teasingly, but before Draco could respond in anger, Harry leant in and kissed him gently, then added, “or kittens, in this case.”

“It's a good thing you're so fit, it's really the only thing keeping me from orchestrating a dramatic exit right about now,” Draco said as he reached up to touch Harry's cheek, “that and the fact that I'm naked, and you're my soulmate.”

“Still hard to believe, if you ask me...” Harry mused, and Draco chuckled softly.

“What, did you think I was lying about that?” Draco asked, watching as Harry grabbed his wand again, this time it in order to conjure a blanket over their naked bodies. When Harry set his wand back down Draco immediately shifted closer, and tingled with delight when Harry held him close.

“It's not that I didn't believe you, it felt like you were telling the truth, but the concept itself is just a bit hard to grasp,” Harry admitted, though he was smiling with what appeared to be barely-controlled joy, like the notion was especially exciting to him in some way. “I'm glad it was you, though.”

“Yeah,” Draco agreed, pillowing his head against Harry's shoulder. “Me too.” He paused, and smiled. “I suppose getting stuck in my Animagus form has its merits, after all.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, and laughed softly. “Maybe next time you try it, just do it with me around. Bringing you back to your usual self is something I'm pretty keen to try again.”

“I'll bet,” Draco smirked and touched Harry's cheek gently, which brought another smile out of him. “If that's the case, I will _happily _get stuck in that form as often as I possibly can.”

“In that case I can't _wait _until your next attempt,” Harry said with a wild grin that caused Draco to burst out laughing.

The End


End file.
